


Dancing on their blood (Beware! It's slippery)

by IamInadequate



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: AU, Awkward Sex, F/M, First Time, Masturbation, Multi, Porn with some plot, Smut, awkward everything, i can't tag, i guess, trashy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamInadequate/pseuds/IamInadequate
Summary: It all started because of Gendry. She blamed his broad shoulders, his muscular arms and his thick black hair. Oh, and his eyes.Damn him!Arya was an innocent girl of sixteen years-old, with a heart full of good intentions, when she entered his forge.She just wanted a sword. A real one.





	Dancing on their blood (Beware! It's slippery)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is trashy, I know. I cannot write that well in English, but I really needed to do it. So here we are, with this... thing. I don't like to have my stories beta'ed, so you're stuck with my mistakes and my odd style.
> 
> This is an AU, Ned is in King's Landing with Arya. No wars, no game of thrones. Just Arya being a curious (and horny) teenager.  
> And Gendry with his own forge.  
> Hope you'll enjoy this fic.

Arya looked at herself in the mirror. The gown was terrible, it stung and it was a little too tight. And her hair? Braided around her head, like a fucking crown. Stupid southron style.  
She tried to adjust the neckline, but her mother slapped her wrist away.  
«You are so beautiful! My little child!» she said with teary eyes. «My little, innocent child is going to marry. Today!»  
Arya rolled her eyes. This was a nightmare.  
A real, terrifying nightmare.

*

It all started because of Gendry. She had to blame his broad shoulders, his muscular arms and his thick black hair. Oh, and his eyes.  
Damn him!

  
Arya was an innocent girl of sixteen years-old, with a heart full of good intentions, when she entered his forge.  
She just wanted a sword. A real one.  
And then, she saw him, shirtless and covered in soot, as his muscles tensed. Shouldn't a smith wear some sort of apron as protection?  
Arya cleared her voice, not so much for drawing attention, but just for clearing her voice.  
It was hot in that forge. It was a forge, after all.  
Not because the young smith was shirtless.  
So, anyway. Arya was there with the noble intent of buying a sword. And she said it at the young shirtless smith.  
He focused really hard on her.  
«Come here.»  
«What?» Arya felt herself blush.  
«Come closer.»  
Tentative, the young Stark came closer to the smith and mayhaps, in her head, some not so noble thoughts took shape.  
She then felt his hands caress her arm; it was a sudden touch and she didn't expect the numbness, so she shifted her gaze to watch him: he has a thread and was measuring the length of her limb.

_Oh, sure. Oh._

«Have to measure your arm.»  
She wasn't stupid. «I'm not stupid, I know what you are doing.»  
«As m'lady says.»  
The girl startled. Why would he think she was a lady? She was dressed with Bran's old clothes, she hadn't any jewel on and she couldn't possibly look like some soutrhon noblewoman.  
«Oh, shut up.» she murmured angrily.  
Then he saw him, on his knees in front of her, with a little smug smile. She felt something in the pit of her stomach.  
Maybe she had eaten something bad and just needed to throw up.  
«Stretch your arm.» he commanded, tugging her wrist gently.  
She obeyed reluctantly, while a nagging voice of her brain was screaming at her to caress his thick black hair. They looked soft.  
«Aren't you curious to know why a woman would want a sword?» she asked instead, suppressing that annoying voice.  
The smith stood up and brushes the dirt from his knees.  
«You'd be surprise to know for how many women I used my hammer.»  
Arya's cheeks reddened. She could feel all her body flush.  
She could be confident. «How... how many?» she croaked. _Seven Hells! So confident indeed.  
_ He just shrugged. «I'm not counting. So, what kind of sword would you like? A one-hand light sword would be perfect, but you ask. I'll do it.»

Arya couldn't believe someone would be more confused than her, leaving a forge.

 

*

 

The blame of the wedding wasn't in that specific episode, but Arya knew it was the beginning of the fall.  
  
She came back to the forge after a long and boring week into the Red Keep, just to see how far he was with her sword; she had no idea the specifics of crafting a sword, but she felt so bored in that red cage.  
That day, Gendry was wearing a shirt (that hugged his shoulders perfectly) and Arya wasn't sure she felt relieved or disappointed.  
«M'lady.» he said as soon as he saw her, then he bowed a little clumsily.  
She rolled her eyes.  
«I can't stop now, you can come here if you wish to talk.»  
Arya didn't exactly wish to talk. She didn't know what to say to that smith. There were more exciting activities they could try, like... working on her sword.  
At the end, Arya hopped on the table and just looked at the man hammering a breastplate. It was hypnotic. Awkward and hypnotic.  
It could even be relaxing, if it wasn't for his stupid arms and stupid shoulders and for her stupid body that was pulsing every time that stupid hammer hit the steel.  
«I'm Gendry.» he blurted, after he unsuccessfully tried to wipe the sweat from his brows.  
«Arry.»  
«Strange name, for a lady.»  
«Maybe because I'm not a lady! Don't call me that.»  
«As m'lady commands.»  
«So annoying.» she muttered, narrowing her eyes.  
«Anyway, I'll work at your sword next week, I think. I'm sorry, but the joust of our great King is a priority.»  
Arya looked at him with wide eyes. She had just wasted a hour there, in a hot and stinky forge, to... nothing (except ogling at Gendry's arms).  
«I can only imagine how difficult it was to sneak off the Red Keep, but I don't think you have anything to do there, anyway. And Flea Bottom's streets are dangerous for a pretty lady like yourself.»  
«I'm not a lady.»  
He scoffed and hit again the breastplate. «I know your kind.»  
« _My kind?_ » she felt the fury roaring in her stomach.  
«A rebel who is waiting for a lord to tame her, maybe with a castle and fine golden gowns.»

_How dared he?_ _Who in the Seven Hells did he think he is, to talk like that about her?_

Arya tried to repress her murderous instinct. She was losing miserably.  
«I don't want to marry. I want that fucking sword so I can cut the head of any lord who dares to ask me as his wife. And I want to dance on their blood.» she yelled, trembling.  
Gendry had a painful glint in his eyes. «Do you want to dance on their blood? It could be slippery.»  
She couldn't believe what he's just said. It was so unexpected she couldn't stop the bubble of laughter that escaped from her throat.

 

*

 

Thinking about that moment, Arya could see it. Gendry's fault.  
In fact, from that day, things began to fall even harder; Arya went to Gendry almost every afternoon, because she really needed that sword. Just for the sword.  
And they usually didn't talk much, Arya liked to steal food from the kitchen and eat with him.

  
It was fun, until they started kissing. She wasn't sure whose fault was, but it happened.

«Will you dance on my blood?»  
«You haven't asked my father to marry me. And I don't have a sword, yet.» she replied, before kissing him again.

Then, it was even funnier.

 

*

 

When Arya couldn't sneak off, she was really sad. It wasn't that she cared about Gendry, she just wanted that damned sword. And the Red Keep was so boring.  
But usually, she could sneak off, because her mother was in the cold North and her father trusted her.  


The real point of no return was when Arya felt _**it**_. It was the first time they were in that position: she seated on the edge of the table and Gendry in between her legs. It was so glorious to feel his warm and solid body against hers. And then she needed more, so she crossed her legs around his hips and she felt _**it**_. **_It_** was hard. Gods, why was **_it_** hard? The Septa didn't teach her those things.  
However, she was curious and while their lips and tongues where preoccupied, Arya sneaked her hand between them, to caress **_it_ ** above his clothes.  
He hissed.  
«Did I... did I hurt you?» she asked retreating her hand.  
«No, no.»  
Arya was hesitant, but she could not resist his lips, so they kissed again and again until Gendry shifted a little and she felt **_it_** again... **_his_**... this time it was pressing lightly between her legs and... _Seven Hells!_ What was happening?  
«Gendry....» she moaned. «I want to feel **_it_** again.»  
Gendry was stupid, but he understood her. He smirked and shifted his hips again, as his hands held her down. She hissed and pulled her head back, leaving her throat for Gendry to kiss it.  
Arya was overwhelmed. His lips, his hips... her body felt hot and tense, she didn't know how to stop her moans and how to relieve that infuriating pressure that was crushing her lower abdomen.  
«Gendry, I need...» she wasn't sure what she needed, but she was grabbing his shoulders for dear life.  
It was frustrating. And exciting. But above all frustrating. No, maybe exciting.  
She felt Gendry stopping himself and Arya knew it: frustrating. She opened her lips to reproach or curse him but he spoke, his voice hoarse.  
«Can I...» he vaguely pointed at her crotch.  
«What?»  
«Touch you?» he asked, narrowing his eyes.  
Arya's cheeks reddened and she shrugged.«If you want to...» she murmured, trying and failing to be confident.  
Gendry smiled and unlaced her pants. With his other hand, he touched her jaw and cheek until their lips were sealed again. And then, when that feeling between her legs was subsiding, Gendry's fingers were stroking it, lightly, almost sweetly, to rekindle it. Arya squirmed and huffed until she was a needy mess again.  
«You're so wet...» he said as we was peppering her jaw with light kisses.  
She couldn't really reply. Not when the only word she could think of was his name, not when his callous fingers were playing her like a harp.  
And finally it happened. That pressure exploded like wildfire and Arya couldn't help but jump off the table, with Gendry's hand still trapped there. Her legs were wobbly and she held herself on Gendry's arm.  
The smith took his hand off from her, and dried it on his pants. «Are you fine?» he was smirking so smugly.  
«Yes, thanks.» she said, trying to be offhanded.  
She did a decent job this time, until Gendry had to ruin everything. «You are so beautiful when you come.»

_Oh! It was nice to say, wasn't it? She didn't know. It was weird,_ but she was still flushing for her orgasm and it sounded nice to hear.  
«Thanks...» she avert her eyes saw **_it_** , still there. Caged in Gendry's pants.

«I want to see **_it_**!»  
Gendry flushed a little and she felt so brave.  
«It's late, you should go home.»  
However Arya wasn't listening and she swiftly unlaced his pants. **_It_ ** was there: proud, erect and veiny. She felt odd, in a room with an almost-naked Gendry and _that thing_ between them.  
She touched **_it_** with her finger, just a little shove.  
«Arry...»  
«Arya. My name is Arya.» she corrected him as her nimble hand gripped **_it_**.  
« ** _It'_** s so hard and big.» she said almost to herself. So candid.  
«Arya, please. Do something or go away...» there was an urge in his voice that made her so excited.  
«Show me how to help you.»

And that was how Gendry ruined her life.

 

*

 

There were days they acted as normal friends. Nothing happened. Gendry had to work and Arya just liked to look at him. But usually he closed the door of his forge and kissed her until she felt boneless.

She hated to go away in those occasions, but just because she really liked what they did; especially what Gendry did with his fingers. She could say it was her favourite part, until he showed her what his tongue could do there. That became her favourite activity. And she could play with Gendry's hair.  
At least, she wasn't selfish. And a quick learner and really, really curious about sex.

«If you use your mouth here...» she pointed at the junction between her legs. «So, I suppose I can use mine with... **_that_**.» gesturing towards his crotch.  
Gendry looked at her like she was a three-headed dragon. Then laughed.  
«Shut up!»  
«I'm not sayin' anything.»  
Arya knelt in front of him, and unbuttoned **_it_** , angrily. _**It**_ was semi-hard and she proceeded to caress **_it_ ** slowly. When he groaned she felt so powerful.  
« ** _It_** 's so strange from down here.»  
«Shut up. You like it.» he replied, making her blush. She ignored his smug smile and eyed **_it_** like it was a strange thing. **_It_ ** really was.  
She didn't want to ask him for any advice, so she assumed that she could start licking **_it_**.  
So she did it. And Gendry hissed in that way she knew it was for pleasure.  
_Good._  
So she did it again, and again.  
Then she licked the tip, slowly.  
«Arya... suck it. Please.»  
She was going to smile triumphantly and mayhaps play a little, but then she saw his dark eyes full of desire and she just nodded.  
She was a quick learner, but it was a little difficult to learn how to pleasure him with her mouth; her jaw started to ache and she wasn't suppose to use her teeth (he hissed of pain!) so she had to be focused on her task. Arya was very satisfied when he came, though. Especially when he kissed her like he couldn't stop.

 

*

 

The way of perdition had blue eyes and black hair.  
Like a damned Baratheon.

_Oh, wait._

Arya looked at the King's table, where the King's brother was laughing. He was so similar to Gendry, he was his lordly and less muscular version. How could she have missed it? Gendry was a Baratheon.

_Fuck._

 

The day after her great revelation, Arya stormed in the forge of his... well... _Gendry_.  
«You are cute when you are angry.» she forgot for a moment why she was there, angry and hurt.  
But then she saw his blue eyes.  
«You are... _afuckingbaratheon_.» she seethed.  
Gendry shook his head. «Not really.»  
«You are!»  
«I'm one of the many bastards of King Robert. So?»  
«So? Well...» what was the point? Why was she so angry?  
«Neither I know who you are.»  
She swallowed. «I'm a Stark. Eddard Stark's daughter.»  
Gendry nodded once and his expression became painful. She didn't know him for long, but she knew he was thinking at something.  
«This is a huge mistake.» he murmured.  
Arya felt a strange anger in her throat, she felt disappointment. For herself? For him?  
«I can't... **fuck.** » he took Arya's hand and squeezed it. «You should not be doing any of this. I could be killed. I could ruin you for some good lord.»  
«I don't want a good lord. I don't want a lord at all.» she felt so confused.  
«You said it now.»  
«I'd said it tomorrow. You knew I was some Lord's daughter, what's changed?»  
Gendry shrugged. «It's so real now that you have said it. And I am falling in love with you. It's scary.»

_Fuck._

Arya nodded and went to the door. She felt his words in her head, in her chest, in her stomach.  
She had to go. To push the door open and go to the Red Keep. She had to go.  
Instead she locked it.

They became a twirl of clothes and limbs and kisses, after that.

 

It's not like she hadn't thought about having sex with Gendry, because she did. When his face was between her legs or when he was moaning her name.  
It would have been totally inappropriate, though. Virginity was the most important virtue for a young lady. And then, why was she on top of him, completely naked?  
And why was she was rolling her hips against his naked and very hard cock?

Because she was not that lady-like. And she was reckless. They both were.  
«Gendry...» she hissed when she felt his cock against her clitoris. «Fuck me already!»  
Gendry held her hips and flipped her over, her back flushed against the hard ground. In the love songs, the lady was lied on bed of flowers, on bed of feathers; she would open her gracious legs for the noble knight and he would love her with gentle hands.  
Her bed was cold and uncomfortable. Ah, not noble knight for Arya, but a bastard smith of Flea Bottom.  
She smiled.

«We really shouldn't do it.» he trembled.  
«And yet, here we are.» she kissed his lips.  
Gendry moved closer to Arya's entrance. «I'll be gentle.»  
Arya nodded and left him lead.

And... it hurt. _Fucking Gendry._

«Sorry.» he grunted after a long and slow thrust. «You want me to stop?»  
Arya thought about that. It hurt, but it wasn't unbearable. And she liked to feel his weight, his warm body against hers.  
«No. I sort of like it.» she replied, breathless.  
Gendry snorted and panted as he thrusted again. She felt that nagging sensation again, but she liked to watch his focused look.  
«Why are you smiling?» his tone a little curt, breathless.  
«Your face. It's so cute. Sorry, go on!»  
Gendry kissed her on the lips. It was delicate, sweet and short, then he rolled near her, leaving her naked and exposed.  
«What? _Why?_ » she asked, sitting on the ground.

Gendry gazed languidly at her tits, so he smiled. He stretched his arm and tugged her to lie down with him, his other hand then started to trace patterns on her skin. «We just got caught in the moment. It was too soon, we weren't ready.» and then kissed her. «Your first time was a terrible mistake, in the ground of a forge».  
«I don't care. I think I'm falling for you, too.» she blurted, averting his eyes.  
«You are the sweetest girl I've ever met.»

And then he put a hand in between her legs to make her sing his name.  
(And, she did it.)

  
*

 

Arya had to understand it, it was a sign.  
And yet, after two days, there she was, on top of Gendry with his cock buried inside of her.  
  
It was almost pleasant now. Decisively pleasant when they moved in a certain way.

But not. They had to keep on playing with the destiny.  
And that's why, after a week, the Seven Hells opened their mouths to swallow them both.

 

*

 

It was a normal day at the forge.  
Arya had entered in the shop, she had provoked Gendry and now she was stark naked, bent over the table, with Gendry behind (and in) her.  
She liked that position, she liked it because she could hear the sound of their bodies fuck, because he was a little more feral, because after that he would kiss her with such emotion. It was intense. She would never tell him that.  


So, it was a normal day at the forge.  
Until the door opened and someone came inside, with Gendry just a thrust away to make Arya come.

«Dearest neph- _oh shit!_ » they both looked at the men at the door.

« _Oh, crap!_ »

« **Fuck!** »

For a moment the three people in the room where paralyzed.  
And...  
«You are fucking **Arya Stark.** »  
Gendry took a step back and tripped in his own clothes pooled on the ground. He fell on his arse in the cold ground.  
Arya straightened and put on her pants.  
«Why didn't you close the door?» she asked angrily, as she tried to fasten her shirt.  
«I thought you did it! You were so bold, wiggling your arse, bent over the table... you know I can't think straight with you, like that!»  
Arya opened her mouth but the person in the room coughed.  
«So... you and a Stark lady? You are just like your father.»  
Arya shrugged, embarrassed.  
«Lord Baratheon...» Gendry started, still disheveled, still a little shaken.  
«I told you to call me Uncle Renly.»  
«Uncle Renly, you can't say anything at all. Arya's reputation...»  
«I don't care about my reputation, Lord Renly, please. If you care about him, at all, don't say anything to anybody.»

Renly looked at them long. Arya was going to throw up.

«How long have you been fucking?»  
Arya winced.  
«A week?»  
«Knowing the ability... if you want to call it ability, of my royal brother's sperm, there's no time to waste.»  
«What?»  
Renly smiled.

«Lady Arya, marry me.»

 

*

Storm's End was majestic. Arya didn't like the southron air, but she had to admit it: the castle was beautiful.  
She didn't like the reason that led her to be there, but given the situation it could be worse.  
Far far worse.

But she was getting married.

And her mother was crying. Again.

And as they were swearing to love and protect each other, for a second Arya thought of this very moment with Gendry. She smiled.

_Ugh, she was being stupid._

She lost her grey cloak for the yellow one, a peck on the lips and she was now Arya Baratheon.

 

*

 

«Nobody knows it, I'm talking with you because I trust you, but I can't... love women.»  
Arya frowned.  
«My brother wants me to have heirs. He could give Storm's End to Stannis and I don't want to lose my home.»  
«So, you want to marry Arya hoping she is... with my child?»  
«It's not an easy situation. I know. Gendry, come with me to Storm's End. You can work in **our** family's forge and stay with Arya. You'll need to be discreet and it wouldn't be easy, but you chose this life the day you two decided to fuck.»  
Gendry looked at Arya. Arya was helpless, defeated  
«Maybe it's the best option we have to stay together, if you are interested. I'm not saying I am... hypothetically speak-»  she grumbled.  
«I want to. To stay with you. Even if it isn't the life you and I would choose.»

 

*

 

She would have loved to drink until she couldn't remember her name, but her mother took her third cup of wine and looked at her with fierce eyes. She was a married woman now, yet her mother was a scary creature.  
She often looked at Gendry, who was sulking in a corner of the Hall, with his pained gaze. He looked stupid. Stupidly cute.  
And then someone called _**“Bedding time”**_ and Arya ended in the middle of drunk men who tore her gown apart. She was in her small clothes, in front of everyone.

_Such a pleasure._

They essentially threw her on the bed, then Renly came, glowing and smiling like the entire situation wasn't embarrassing at all.  
«My lovely wife.»  
«My dear husband.»

Renly took her hand. «Here it is a vial of stag's blood. Later, pour it on the linen. Have a nice night.» he winked. She wanted to die.  
Instead she nodded and saw his husband vanish behind a little door. And then Gendry appeared, awkward, just like her.  
«Nice gown... nice ceremony.» The girl huffed and lied down on her featherbed.  
«I'm your aunt, now.» she said, trying not to laugh. Or cry.  
Gendry scoffed. «It's so Targaryen, to fuck one of my family.»  
She cackle. Then Gendry lied down, next to her.

« **A featherbed at last.** »  
«It makes me want to love you, not just to... you know... fuck. Am I a fool in love?» he asked, looking a little sheepish.  
«Yes, you are. Do it.»

And he did.

 

*

 

Rob Baratheon was born in a stormy morning, with his Lord father and his real father next to each other.  
He was healthy, with blue eyes and black hair. A true Baratheon, with powerful functional lungs.

She looked at her little child and then she shifted her gaze to see Gendry with teary eyes. He was his first son, _their first son,_ and the idea that another man would raise him broke her heart.

So she smiled. «Gendry, I think I will dance. _Soon_.»

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... it's not like Gendry doesn't work. He just closes the shop for a hour or two. He would catch his work at night.  
> Thank you for reading. Love you all. <3


End file.
